Thursday, June 29, 2006

HNT 2 Michelle

My mind is sometimes like the television remote control that the cat has inadvertently sat on and his relaxed cat knee is firmly depressing the channel up button. Now that we have digital television and the "tuner" needs to calibrate the signal as it ships in through satellite or cable and takes two seconds to adjust, my cat on my mind's remote control sometimes gets me channel surfing my own memories in slow motion. The product of this is my incessant context shifting so follow if you can.

I have mentioned Michelle, she lives in the bay area and is terminally single. She's not single because she has a head like a shoe or makes cottage cheese dioramas with her thigh impression, she's single because she's detached and a commitmentphobe. Maybe she's my mirror image in femme form, maybe not.

Last night I was thinking about the weekend's plans, my first weekend off in a while, and as if she knew I was free I received a text message from Michelle. Here's how it went down....

17:55 (her) Saturday probably out. What about Sunday?

17:57 (me) Nah, gotta be back for early meeting Monday.

18:22 (me) How about late Saturday?

18:26 (her) If I don't go to Napa. Let me know your plans.

19:01 (me) hmm... I'm tingling thinking of doing all sorts of things to you. But if Napa is for you this weekend then I'll just have to picture my tongue in you and finish myself off.

19:02 (her) Not fair

19:05 (me) Yeah, but there's no rush... You'll still look good enough to eat in those little black panties next time, and taste as good.

19:06 (her) Jesus, I might be in a rush. I'm holding you to it.

19:07 (me) Poor baby.. You got an itch?

19:22 (her) What time!?!?

19:26 (me) 9, But I'd like to be in you with my hand over your mouth by 9:03.19:27 (her) what else?

19:29 (me) Honestly, I'd really want to put you over your bed and listen to your moans while I hold your tits and fuck you deep... Too much?

20:01 (her) see you then, carb load.

See how she gets me to play her? She's changed her plans and now expects me to come up. It's really my fault, I know, too bad.